


Mind, Body, and Soul

by mantisbelle



Series: Loves and Loyalties [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: 5+1, Character Study, Gen, Implied Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Dismemberment, Team WTCH, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9683171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Fewer things bite harder than rejection, or the loss of a part of him. There is no comfort in strength, and he is left unable to think of anything other than the few that he'd been in contact lately as he walked home to confess his failure to a Goddess that would hopefully forgive him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The villains continue to be my muse eternally. Tyrian's my personal favorite of the whole lot, and boy, reaching into his head for this fic was a bit of an experience in itself. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Comments are love

**1) The Rose Had Thorns**

The little rose had thorns, it was true. Sharp ones, that cut hard into her victims and refused to let go. Ones that could take so much if you weren’t careful. 

Tyrian only knew of two people that knew the bite of those thorns.

He was one of them.

When he’d gone to find little Ruby Rose on his Goddess’ orders, Tyrian had been expecting that it would be simple. After all, how strong could a child that had barely even begun to unlock her potential possibly be? She should have been  _ nothing _ , a molehill that was easily tread over. 

Her little friends he could manage in a heartbeat. They’d never given him so much of a shadow of a concern.

Tyrian had simply taken delight in the chance to show off what he was capable of. They were a bunch of children, travelling alone, and after that waitress had been so kind as to pass on information about them, well...

Tyrian had thought it would be simple. A precisely placed sting and then he could whisk the little Rose away with him and present her to the Queen with nothing but pride and love in his heart. His goddess would reward him for his efforts, he’d take the girl’s left eye as part of his promise to Cinder, and then he would be left to enjoy himself. 

He’d be able to relish in Salem’s pride in him. He’d be able to head off in search of the Spring Maiden for Her Grace, he’d still have his entire tail... 

But the girl had been willing to fight back. And Tyrian had gotten rather far in his efforts to break her down. He’d whittled through her aura, he’d been primed to strike through, envenomate her, and then the two of them would be on their way off to see the Queen. 

He’d never want to disappoint her, after all. 

But he’d failed. 

The girl’s scythe had cut through him harder, faster, and more painfully than any knife, claw, or set of teeth ever had. Tyrian knew that he would never be able to forget the sound of the gunshot that had aided the girl in cutting through his tail like a hot knife through butter.

The pain that had shot up his spine had been overwhelming. It had thrown him off balance, for a moment he hadn’t even remembered where he was. When he’d screamed insults at the girl, he’d meant every word. He could have been harsher, he could have taken the chance to attack, but he couldn’t…

Not when he was off balance. Not when he could barely stand as the pain overwhelmed his senses. Not when he felt like he needed to collapse at any second to get by.

And so Tyrian had to leave the girl there in Oniyuri with her friends, and the huntsman that had been so kind to intervene for them. He had to run from the destroyed village with reassurances on his tongue that he would never be able to truly believe. He had to rest in the dirt when the pain got to be so bad that he couldn’t go on any longer. 

He didn’t take the time to wrap his injury. He had to get back to the Fortress, to its relative safety. He had to get back, regardless of whether he had any success to his name. 

After all, one did not upset the Queen. 

At the end of the day, Tyrian had failed an order, regardless of what little good he had managed to do in the meantime. It would never be enough. He just had to do what he could when he arrived. If he got lucky, then she would surely forgive him for his sins. 

The pain of his severed tail would never sting harder than the weights of his failure. 

It would never sting worse than his Goddess’ rejection. 

Anger burned deep in Tyrian’s chest. One day, he would go after the girl and restore his name and his goddess would forgive him for his failure. He’d get the girls’ eye, drag her back to the Queen, and once more, he would be achieve greatness in his Goddess’ eyes. 

But for now, he just had to drag himself back to face whatever punishment awaited him.

Oh, how he feared that the Queen would not forgive him.

 

**2) A True Huntsman**

 

Tyrian had failed to bring the girl to his Goddess. 

Oh, how that thought constantly rang in his head and made it impossible for him to focus on anything else. 

Tyrian knew that there were many reasons for his failure, a vast multitude of reasons, in fact. The fact that his tail had been dismembered was only one of those reasons. 

Had it not been for the huntsman’s intervention, he would have gotten away with with little Rose safely, and he would have been able to deliver her to Her Grace with no incident. He’d still have his tail intact, he’d have no worries for what would happen when he arrived. He’d be facing nothing but praise for his work, in fact, Tyrian was sure that he’d be able to rest comfortably in his Queen’s favor for his success. 

Why, had he been able to get little Ruby Rose and Qrow Branwen both, Tyrian would have been looked on only with his Goddess’ infinite  _ love _ , even above Cinder, Hazel, and Watts. Such love would be enough to warm him for the rest of his life. Nothing would ever be enough to hold him down...

It was a true shame that he had failed, all things considered. 

When he and Qrow Branwen had first begun to engage in combat, Tyrian had been so  _ glad _ to be able to fight the man. He’d been so pleased to show what he was capable of against one of the great huntsmen of their world, and the fact that he’d gone toe to toe with Qrow was a true testament to both of their skills.

Had it not been for the girl’s intervention, Tyrian was sure that he would have seen a much more decisive victory for his efforts….

Oh, his Goddess has trained him well, just as Ozpin had trained Qrow well. It was a true show of power, not only for themselves, but as champions of their respective masters. 

Oh, if she had seen him fight, she would have been so  _ proud. _

But Qrow… had it not been for his presence, he would have been able to take the girl, whisk her away to his Goddess, and then…

But that was no worry! He’d managed to do well for his Queen, taking one of Ozpin’s favorite agents out of play. Qrow’s death was all but assured, though it would take some time for the venom to set in properly and truly overtake Qrow’s body. 

Oh, to know that he’d removed one of the great huntsmen of their time by his own hand… In a way, it provided Tyrian with a comfort that he hadn’t quite been fully prepared for. It wasn’t enough to restore many things- he’d still been bested by a child, and he’d still lost his tail, but Tyrian could at least take some comfort in the fact that he’d in all likelihood struck Qrow down. 

Though, despite his pride in his deeds, Tyrian was left with some things that he couldn’t quite get out from under. There was a certain sadness that came with knowing that he’d struck down a huntsman that he’d learned to admire from afar. He’d learned to admire Qrow’s strength, his loyalty to his master, his skill on the battlefield. 

Tyrian had always been interested in Qrow, and he was almost sad to know that he’d taken the man down by his hand. 

But he hadn’t left their only encounter in person unscathed. Neither of them had, the only difference was that Tyrian didn’t face death- Qrow Branwen hadn’t been able to land a blow that would have killed him. Tyrian would have slain the huntsman without a doubt if not for the girls’ presence. 

His stinger was gone, though. It was a high price to pay to serve his goddess as well as he could manage. Perhaps he could carry the injury as a trophy from Qrow’s defeat. Perhaps that would be enough to lessen the pain, to lessen his worries.  

Surely, the news that Qrow was assured his death would be enough to please his dear Goddess, despite his failures. 

If it wasn’t going to be… Well, Tyrian didn’t know what would come after that other than trying to restore himself to her favor and love.  
  


**3) She Was No Goddess**

 

There were many things for which Tyrian mourned as he dragged himself back to his Queen’s fortress. He’d made promises when he’d departed last, after all. Promises to Her Grace herself, and to the pretender to her throne as well. 

Oh, the pretender. Cinder Fall they called her, and every time that he saw the girl there was a part of Tyrian that  _ burned _ with jealousy. 

_ She’d _ come back to the Goddess injured and lesser than she had been before.  _ She’d _ lost in some ways, but her successes had brought her directly into their Queen’s graces. Despite her injuries and her newest weakness,  _ she _ was welcomed back with open arms-  _ she _ was defended and cared for, and given treatments to help her recover. 

Tyrian knew that he hadn’t succeeded as well as the girl had, but if Cinder had been taken in so kindly, then surely he would be given the same respect. 

If not… then he could continue to hate the girl.

A part of him was angry that he’d failed to succeed in his mission for another reason, and it had nothing to do with what would happen when he got back to his goddess. He’d promised Cinder an eye for an eye, but that debt went unpaid. 

Instead, he’d lost a tail. They couldn’t take a tail from a human child, and Cinder wasn’t going to do anything to help him. She wouldn’t go in pursuit of a tail for him, as he had gone for an eye for her, no, he would be left out in the cold as he always was.

Left alone to suffer, and sob, and struggle to work his way back in.  

He would go forgotten once again, out of his Goddess’ favor, left to rot, and cry, and waste away until he once again restored his position by his own merit. But he couldn’t just  _ do _ that, no, that wasn’t possible. Only Cinder Fall possessed the power of a Maiden, and once their Queen decided it was time for another Maiden (one which  _ he _ was hunting for, no less) it would only get worse. 

He would bring his Queen news of the Spring Maiden. Someone would find a candidate, a girl that would work for the Goddess without complaint. She would agree to the terms presented to her, and then should she be successful in gaining the Maiden’s power, Tyrian would be cast back aside. The fact that he’d hunted the Maiden down wouldn’t matter, once the girl was there, he wouldn’t matter. 

Tyrian would be able to bask in his Goddess’ glow for a few days at most. The girl would take her favor, and then he’d be given a new assignment- find the Winter Maiden, or maybe the Summer Maiden. Whichever one Salem had more use for at the moment, whichever was the hardest counter to the two others. 

And when he received that order, Tyrian would be  _ glad _ to fulfill it because it meant that he would once again receive his Queen’s love. Oh, how he could surround himself in that love for whatever time it was given to him until...

Well, he couldn’t be a Maiden. It wouldn’t matter once his Goddess got bored with him. 

And oh, how that rejection from her favor would  _ burn _ . It would surely worm its way under Tyrian’s skin and make him want to cry and scream and fight, and nothing was sure to be able to make him feel better about what was happening. 

It made things hard. He wanted to care for dear Cinder in the same way that he cared for the others, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. It wasn’t easy when it came to her. Hazel had never caused him to be pushed aside. Neither had dear Doctor Watts. 

No, _that_ honor belonged to Cinder and Cinder alone. 

He hated for it, deep down. He hated her for being the cause of the rejections, as indirect as they tended to be. He hated her for getting her eye taken from her by that little girl. He hated her for insisting that someone must go after the girl. 

After all, had it not been for Cinder Fall, he would still have his stinger. He would still be able to bask in his Goddess’ happiness, he wouldn’t be dragging himself back to her grace broken and clinging to the hope that Qrow was dead and that he would see forgiveness. 

All because a girl had wanted revenge and hadn’t been able to go after it for herself. If only he’d been able to bring the little Rose back, if only he’d been able to hand her over with an eye missing. Maybe then he would feel okay, maybe the pain that raced up his spine every time his tail twitched wouldn’t be so bad. 

Maybe one day Cinder would be cast aside, and he would be restored to his Goddess’ favor. 

But for now, he was content to hate the girl for what she had brought. 

This was all her fault, after all. If not for her, he would never have faced such failure as he did now. 

 

**4) No Small Obstacle**

 

On the way back to his Goddess’ fortress, thousands of thoughts flitted through Tyrian’s mind and made it next to impossible for him to concentrate. There were too many things biting at him, and all that Tyrian could think of was the mantra that he couldn’t quite believe that told him that his Queen would forgive him. 

Once upon a time, he followed a different mantra, given to him by another man who had seemingly been there since the very beginning. When Tyrian had first been taken into the fold of his Goddess’ love, Hazel had been there. 

Ever strong, ever silent. A rock that never wavered and kept them stable.

Much of Tyrian’s early training had been done by Hazel’s hand rather than anyone else’s. While the Queen provided the means by which he’d been trained, it had been Hazel that had seen that it would be done. The man had provided him with a great many things to get him into shape so that he could be just as strong, so that he too could properly serve their goddess.

Oh, how much Tyrian owed Hazel. 

And now, as he stumbled home, aching and distressed, and wracked with worry, he tried to drag himself back to the words that Hazel had first given him to carry him through his training. The first time that he hadn’t struck fast enough, or had to stumble through a battle injured, Hazel had always said something that had been more than enough to get Tyrian still moving. 

Let no small obstacle stand in his path. 

It was a great philosophy, no doubt. It was the kind that gave Tyrian the incentives that he needed to be able to keep going from battle to battle, and now he had to cling to Hazel’s words to carry him home. That was all that Tyrian had right now, other than the hope that Qrow Branwen would surely pass into the abyss as a result of his sting. 

She would forgive him. 

This was no small obstacle. 

She would forgive him, he would make it back to his queen, and Salem would forgive him for his transgressions. She would forgive his failures, she would…

Deep down, Tyrian knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. He knew that he wasn’t going to be accepted so easily, but he could at least find the strength to make it back to his Goddess as long as he followed dear Hazel’s advice. 

Even if his Goddess did not forgive him, Tyrian could find a way through this. He could find a way to live without his stinger, he would find a way to become stronger despite all of this. He didn’t know if there was ever going to be a way to replace his dear stinger, but there was a life beyond all of this. 

Hazel’s advice had never brought him the wrong way before, Tyrian knew that. 

He could find his way back into the Goddess’ good graces. The loss of his stinger was nothing- just another obstacle for him to overcome to prove himself properly. 

Tyrian was more than willing to find the best way to fight through this. 

It was merely an anthill in his path, after all, as great and unmanageable as it may have seemed then. 

All that Tyrian had to do was keep dear Hazel’s words in his mind. 

 

**5) The Good Doctor’s Work**

 

Tyrian would never forget the first time that he’d come under Watts’ careful watch. He’d been young then, freshly taken in by Salem, and injured. He’d cried when the man had bandaged his back and his chest- he’d been little more than a child at the time, and Watts had cared for him. 

It pained Tyrian to know that in the end, it meant nothing. 

It was simply the good doctor doing his job because it was what must be done to please their Goddess. She didn’t take kindly to it when the members of her inner circle came out of their training sessions injured for whatever reason- regardless of how lowly they were. 

His Goddess was kind, caring for even the insects and arachnids that lie below her feet as she did. 

When he’d returned from the hunt for the girl, Tyrian had been injured and in need of help, but the doctor wasn’t there. Doctor Arthur Watts was off halfway across the world meeting with an informant that would likely be quick to divulge any valuable information that he’d gathered in regards to what Ozpin was up to these days. 

Though, Ozpin was dead. Even still, knowing what the worms that called themselves Ozpin’s agents were up to was always of great use to the goddess. It meant that it would be easier for them to take down Mistral when the time finally came for that to be done. 

For several days, Tyrian had to wait for Arthur to arrive back at the fortress to meet with them. They were a harsh few days. As his despair over his goddess’ rejection began to work under his skin and worm deeper and deeper, he’d only found himself feeling more and more alone. 

There was no good company there anymore for Tyrian. 

He knew what he was going to have to look forward to whenever Arthur got back. For sure, there would be ridicule and cruelty in his words, but Tyrian also knew that he could trust that the Doctor would do his best work. He’d wrap Tyrian’s tail and try to find a way to make sure that the venom could drain once there was too much. 

Tyrian could trade off what scrap he had left of his dignity, however small it was if it meant that he’d be cared for, regardless of what the circumstances behind that were. Watts would heal him out of obligation, but that was no matter. 

No, the true thing that mattered in this situation was that once Watts saw a chance to exercise his mind, to perform science and to experiment, Tyrian knew that he could trust in the fact that he would take interest in the most severe parts of Tyrian’s injury. 

Watts wouldn’t care for Tyrian’s well-being. He wouldn’t care to know about how much pain Tyrian suffered, he wouldn’t attempt to dry Tyrian’s tears, he wouldn’t offer any small comfort. But he’d be interested in Tyrian’s tail as he had been many times before. 

The good doctor had accompanied Tyrian through many a molting, and he had taken such glee in seeing how the old exoskeleton would shed and be replaced with skin that would later harden into the scaled exterior that Tyrian would take such pride in. He’d taken notes on how it had caused Tyrian pain, but he’d found ways to work through the process in a less painful way in the future. 

There was a part of Tyrian that was sure, or at the very least bubbled with hope that the doctor’s interest in research would lead to some sort of project to return his tail to its former glory. 

Whatever happened, Tyrian knew that it wasn’t going to be the way that it had been before. In all likelihood, whatever replacement stinger wouldn’t feel quite right, it wasn’t going to be  _ his _ , organic and real, it wasn’t going to look the same, it wasn’t going to feel the same way when he wrapped his tail up around himself, whether it was for comfort or for disguise.

But at the very least, it was his- something to call his own, even if it was sure to have the good Doctor Arthur Watts’ name stamped into it somewhere. Watts enjoyed staking claim over things, and this was an area where Tyrian was willing to give himself up. 

After all, he was nothing now, just a failed hunter that had been sent on a mission that he hadn’t been able to complete. 

Whatever he got, he was going to have to gladly accept, and Tyrian was okay with that fact. 

He could trust that the good doctor would do good work in order to help him. 

Regardless of what pains he would have to suffer to get it.

 

**+1) She Did Not Forgive Him**

 

His Goddess hadn’t forgiven him. 

Of all the things that could have happened, Tyrian had never suspected such gentle cruelties from his Goddess. 

He’d thought that he’d done well, disposing of one of Ozpin’s many agents as he had. He’d failed to bring Salem the little Rose, but compared to the assured death of Qrow Branwen… Surely he had done well. 

But her disapproval bit sharper than any knife, than any claw or tooth. It pained him more than little Ruby Rose’s scythe had. It made him ache down to his very core, it made him sob and break and fight, only to sob and break again. 

It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen such rejection from her. It wasn’t the first time that he’d stumbled back to the fortress, aching and having failed his mission in the hopes that he wouldn’t face punishment for his failures. 

This was the first time in a very long time where he didn’t return with his life on the line. This was the first time that he’d ever come back to her with any part of him torn away. This was the first time when his failure weighed so heavily, the first time where he couldn’t convince himself that he had done enough in place of what she’d ordered. 

He didn’t have the girl. 

He had Qrow Branwen. 

Surely that would have been enough but- 

It hadn’t mattered.

His Goddess hadn’t forgiven him.

Her punishment had been the cruelest thing he’d ever suffered. Not many would think it was cruel, they would think it was  _ just words _ , there was no way that they could have hurt so  _ badly _ . 

People didn’t understand him. People had never understood him. 

The only one that ever had understood him was her. She’d taken him in from the wasteland of a desert that Tyrian couldn’t quite remember the name of, she’d given him clothes and a place to sleep. She’d given him purpose. 

For almost his entire life, he had served her with the utmost loyalty. All that he’d ever wanted was for her to reach out, to let him know that he’d done something  _ right. _ He wanted to know that he’d done well, that she was pleased, that he had truly acted in her best interests as she would have liked. 

She hadn’t forgiven him for his failure. 

Of course she hadn’t. 

How could she? He had failed her, over and over again. 

It was  _ his _ fault that he had failed. It was him that had failed to catch the girl. He should have been able to make quick work of her, he should have been able to sniff out Qrow Branwen before the huntsman had been able to arrive. He should have been able to bring that girl like a lamb to an altar for his goddess. 

The fact that his goddess hadn’t decided to strike him down alone was a gift. 

Oh, she could have destroyed him in a heartbeat if she wanted to. She could have left him to the grimm, or seen to it that he had been overwhelmed. She could have made sure that he never left the training room, but she hadn’t.

Tyrian supposed that was a gift- a reward of sorts. When he’d first come to her, he hadn’t know what he could truly expect- would she act in cruelty or would she act in pride? Would she forgive him or cast him further out to the wastes to try and find a life without her? 

Oh, how Tyrian was glad that the only rejection he’d met was disappointment. It ached, and burned him to the core, and reminded him that he was  _ nothing _ compared to the Goddess, but the knowledge that he hadn’t been forced to leave was a great encouragement of sorts. 

He’d been blessed with the ability to serve her for so long. He’d been blessed when she’d reached out for him and taken him in from amongst the fire and sand, and burned down canvas tents. She’d taken him in, she’d seen something in him- potential, loyalty, strength, and she had chosen to foster it. She’d given him a purpose in life when he had none. 

Without his Goddess, Tyrian had no life. He was nothing more than an ant, or a speck of dust. Insignificant and struggling desperately towards an end that would come one day. 

And so Tyrian would give himself up to her once again. He would take whatever punishments the Queen doled out to him because in the end, he deserved them. He would do his best to work his way back into her favour, but it would never be enough. 

He had disappointed her. 

That was a pain that he was sure would burn through him until the day that he died.

But if all he had done was disappointed, then he was glad to try his best to make his way back into her warmth. 

Even if it killed him, or he lost another limb to do so, he was glad to try. She hadn’t sent him away completely, and that was the greatest thing that Tyrian could cling to at the end of the day. 

There was some part of her that still wanted him in her service. 

All of Tyrian wanted to remain there, for better or for worse. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments and criticism are greatly appreciated!
> 
> [I'm on tumblr. Sometimes stuff happens. I'm always willing to take questions there!](http://tyrian-callows.tumblr.com/)


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